


A Chance Meeting

by MsLadySmith



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 06:03:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12248454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsLadySmith/pseuds/MsLadySmith
Summary: FB Writing Prompt: ALTERNATE WAYS SHERLOCK AND JOHN COULD HAVE METLet's say John and Sherlock first met on the Tube, Season 2 Episode 2This is my first submission, so please be gentle.  All characters are the property of Arthur Conan Doyle - I'm just a fan!





	A Chance Meeting

John Watson stared silently. The surgery was tedious today: a sniffle, a couple of stitches, a sprained wrist. Nothing out of the ordinary or the least bit exciting. It was a difficult shift to mundane medical work for the Army doctor - there was rarely a day where he didn't have something extreme to deal with in Afghanistan. It may be boring, he thought to himself as he stood waiting for the train to arrive, but it's a good kind of boring. He'd seen enough death and gore to last him a lifetime.

The rumble of the train's arrival interrupted his reverie. As soon as the nearest carriage disgorged its passengers, he walked in, claiming a seat near one end. This Tube stop was only a block from the surgery - a fact he very much appreciated when it was pouring rain, which was common in London - but in the afternoon, most people seemed to be exiting here, not boarding. "Must be nice to be able to afford a flat here," he thought wryly. "I can barely afford a flat at all, and I'm in a cheaper part of town."

The doors closed, and the train began its journey to the next station, its gentle rocking nearly lulling him to sleep.

A few minutes later, he felt the train slow and come to a stop again. "Five more stations," he thought, "then two more blocks and I can curl up and fall asleep." His job may be a 'good kind of boring' but it certainly wore him out.

The doors opened, but no one boarded. "That's odd. There's usually at least a couple people getting on here." At the last moment, someone rushed through the closing doors, and stood in the center of the carriage, catching his breath.

John looked up incredulously at the wild-eyed man. There before him stood a tall, lean man, covered in blood spatter, holding what appeared to be a 19th-century harpoon.

They made eye contact. John swallowed hard, nodded a polite greeting, and made a mental note to exit the carriage at his first possible opportunity.

"None of the cabs would take me," the wild-eyed man stated matter-of-factly, as though reading John's question from his expression. "That's why I am on the Tube."

"Ah. That explains everything." John said simply, trying not to smirk.

The man continued. "I needed to know how much force is required to cause a fatal injury with an single-flue harpoon. More specifically, whether or not a harpoon gun was required, or if a reasonably strong man could apply enough force manually. Of course, I couldn't use an actual human target, so I went to the butcher and tested my theory on a pig carcass."

"That makes sense. Porcine skin is similar to human skin in thickness and composition, so piercing it would take similar force. And I'm sure New Scotland Yard appreciates that you opted for the pig carcass rather than a human target," John replied.

"I daresay that even New Scotland Yard would have been able to catch me, if I hadn't."

"So did you get an answer to your question?"

"Indeed. While a harpoon gun is required for a greater distance, a strong man can easily throw it with adequate force from across a room to commit murder."

"Interesting. What makes you so interested in murder and how to commit it?" John asked warily, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"I offer assistance to NYS on occasion, when they have a case that is too complex for them. In this case, it was the murder of Peter Carey."

"I read about that in the paper. Killed by a harpoon. I thought they'd arrested someone for that."

"Yes, but they've got the wrong man. Neligan is an accountant. He has trouble lifting a 3kg briefcase, so there's no way he could lift a 35kg harpoon, let alone propel it hard enough to kill someone and pin him to a wall with it."

The train again slowed and stopped. The wild-eyed man suddenly interjected, "Well, this is my stop. Thank you for the conversation, Doctor," and flew off the carriage as swiftly as he'd entered.

John blinked. "Wait, how does he know I'm a doctor?" he muttered, and quickly followed.

He nearly had to jog to keep up with the much taller man. "I never said I was a doctor," he said breathlessly.

The man stopped, and John nearly ran over him. "It's obvious. Most people don't know the thickness of human skin, let alone that it's similar to that of pig skin. But someone with medical training would. Admittedly, your doctor's bag might just be a fashion statement, but the two facts together say 'doctor'."

"Doctor John Watson." John briefly considered putting his hand out for a handshake, but then remembered that the man was covered in blood spatter, and reconsidered.

With a knowing nod, the man replied, "Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective. Glad to meet you, Dr. Watson. Care to come up to my flat for some tea? I'm sure my landlady has another cup."


End file.
